Blood Tears (28 page)

I relayed the situation
to the Sarge, and he sped up.

“
It’s
probably nothing,” he said, as if assuring himself. “A false
alarm.”

“
Maybe he’s sick or something?” I suggested.

“
I
guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

We pulled into the
driveway of the Gatton property and drove its length to park in
front of the house. Mrs Gatton met us at the door, her hands
twisting together with anxiety, her rheumy eyes shiny with unshed
tears.

“
I’m
just so worried about him. It’s not like him at all. And he won’t
speak to me. Won’t say a word,” she said, her voice trembling. “Not
a word.”

“
Can
you show us to his room, please?” the Sarge asked
gently.

She led us down the
hallway to the staircase. We followed as she made her creaky, slow
way upstairs, down another short hall to a closed door on the
left.

The Sarge knocked on
the door firmly. “Dave, it’s Sergeant Maguire. Can you open the
door, please?”

Silence echoed
throughout the house, punctuated only by the loud ticking of an old
grandfather clock in the downstairs hall.

“
Dave, I’d just like to have a chat with you. Could you open
the door, please?”

We heard the slight
sound of movement through the thick, heavy door.

“
Dave. Just chat to me for five minutes, that’s all I’m
asking,” tried the Sarge again.

“
Go
away,” he said, his voice muffled. “I don’t feel like talking to
anyone.”

“
Dave, just unlock the door and give me five minutes. Your
mother is very concerned about you. Show her that you’re all
right.”

“
Please make my mother go downstairs.”

“
Dave,” she cried helplessly.

“
Go
downstairs, Mum. Please,” he demanded.

The Sarge and I looked
at each other, and then he nodded in the direction of the stairs. I
took Mrs Gatton gently by the arm and led her towards the
stairs.

“
Okay, Dave. Senior Constable Fuller is taking your mother
downstairs. Now will you open the door so that we can have a
chat?”

I took Mrs Gatton to
her expansive, spotless, but elderly kitchen and commenced making
her a cup of tea – that panacea for many of life’s problems. The
Sarge’s voice was only an indistinct murmur from down here, and try
as I might, I couldn’t discern what he was saying, or what kind of
response he was receiving.

I fussed around with
the electric kettle, teapot and tea canister, searching out two
mugs, even though a cup of tea was the last thing I wanted. I was
just pouring the boiling water into the teapot when the Sarge
appeared in the doorway and beckoned to me.

I left Mrs Gatton in
the kitchen and we moved a discreet distance from her ears.

“
He’s
refusing to open the door or to talk to me,” the Sarge said in
frustration. “Perhaps you might have more luck?”

“
I
doubt it. If he’s not willing to talk to another man, I don’t think
he’ll want to talk to me.”

“
But
you’ll give it a try?”

“
Of
course. You stay here with Mrs Gatton. We should probably keep her
downstairs.”

“
Okay. Good luck. Yell if you need me.”

“
Don’t worry, I will,” I said, jogging lightly up the stairs
and feeling every bruise from my earlier encounter with a
staircase.

I knocked on the
door.

“
Dave? It’s Officer Tess. Could you open the door, please? Let
your mother know that you’re all right. She’s very worried about
you.”

I thought I heard a
sound like a sob, cut short. “Just tell her I love her and she’s
always been a great mother.”

I knocked more
urgently. “Dave. Let me in. If you don’t let either Sergeant
Maguire or me in, we’re going to have to find a way to let
ourselves in. Do you understand? I’d rather you let me in
willingly.”

“
And
tell her I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t . .
.”

The sound of a chair
clattered loudly in the silence that followed.

I banged on the door.
“Dave? Dave?” I turned and yelled, “
Sarge!
”

Without waiting for him
to arrive, I kicked at the door lock a couple of times to no avail
except exacerbating my earlier injury. The door had been
constructed in an era when houses were built solidly, and built to
last. I tried again with the same lack of success.

The Sarge bounded up
the stairs.

“
Something’s wrong,” I explained, not wasting my breath on
unnecessary words.

He shoved me out of the
way and took a few well-aimed kicks at the door, near the lock,
using the power of his leg muscles. After about five kicks, the
door started splintering. His sixth kick shoved it open.

Dave hung from a rope
attached to a large hook in the ceiling of his bedroom, a chair
fallen on its side. His legs kicked about as his face slowly turned
purple.

“
Shit,” the Sarge said. “Quick. I’ll hold him up. You get on
the chair and undo the knots.”

The Sarge grabbed Dave
around the legs and hoisted him enough to loosen the pressure on
his throat. I righted the fallen chair and stood on it, my fingers
desperately and clumsily trying to undo the noose, only too aware
we both literally had the life of a man in our hands. When finally,
the last tangles of rope freed themselves, Dave slumped on to the
Sarge who staggered as he attempted to lay the unconscious man on
the ground.

“
Is
he . . .” I asked, barely daring to hear the answer.

The Sarge checked his
pulse and chest. “He’s not breathing.”

He pulled out his
gloves and resuscitation shield, but before he could even don them
ready to perform CPR, Dave spluttered back to consciousness.

He blinked and looked
around the room, focusing in the end on me, and then the Sarge.

“
Why?” he said, with a despondency that was heartbreaking to
hear. “Why the hell did you stop me?”

Chapter
19

Later, much later, we
assured ourselves that Dave, who refused to allow us to arrange any
medical help, would be okay – physically, at least. He lay on his
bed, his head cradled in his tearful mother’s lap, and we
talked.

When he spoke, he
refused to look any of us in the eye, and being someone who’d felt
deep humiliation in life myself, I perceived a strong sense of that
in him. Whether that was because he was embarrassed he’d had to be
rescued, or because he’d failed in his attempt, it was far too
early, and beyond my professional capacity, to determine.

“
You
don’t know what it’s been like since you arrested me, Officer
Tess,” he said eventually, his voice colourless.

“
I
do, Dave,” his mother avowed, stroking his hair.

“
Only
part of it, Mum. None of you know what it’s like to be shunned in a
town you grew up in, a town that your own family helped build. You
don’t know what it’s like to have people mocking you,
even.”

I gave a silent ironic
laugh.
I do actually, Dave. I really do
, I thought to
myself.

Unaware of my thoughts,
he continued, “People who were my friends, who invited me to their
houses. Now they turn the other way in the street. If they’re with
their kids, they shield them from me.” He glared at me. “They think
I’m a pervert. The school doesn’t ask me to talk about farming at
career day anymore. The community group I belonged to expelled me
by unanimous vote. People in this town have
spat
on me and
thrown things at me. I’m
not
a pervert. I didn’t mean to do
anything wrong that day.”

“
I’m
sorry, Dave. I didn’t have a choice but to take you into custody
that day. Those parents looked like they wanted to lynch you. I did
it for your own safety as much as for what you did.”

“
It’s
not your fault, Officer Tess,” Mrs Gatton said kindly. “Dave knows
that.” She continued to stroke her son’s hair gently. “And he knows
that I’ve also suffered from being shunned in town because of my
support of him in court that day.” She looked at us fiercely. “My
son’s a decent man, and I don’t care if people in this town take
umbrage when I dare tell them that.”

“
Dave,” asked the Sarge, “how long has this been
brewing?”

Dave blinked away tears
– tears that were hard won from a plain speaking, no-nonsense man
of the land. “It was that couple.”

“
Do
you mean the young couple who carjacked you?” I asked.

He nodded, turning his
head away from all of us. “Being robbed by them when I’d just tried
to do them a good deed. I was on my way to Little Town anyway and
they both looked tired.” He paused for a long time. “It was the
last straw for me. And then . . .”

“
Then
what, Dave?” asked the Sarge.

“
Then
those detectives turned up, and I could tell they’d already judged
me. Probably thought I’d picked up those teenagers for other
reasons. I couldn’t bear anyone else judging me. I’ve just had
enough.”

“
Dave
. . .” his mother said, her soft tears falling on his
face.

“
I
know I haven’t been much of a success with women in my life. But I
don’t enjoy being single, and now I won’t have a choice about it. I
would have liked to have had a wife and a family.” He glowered at
us. “I’m not interested in kids in
that
way. I’m not. I was
just taking a leak that day, that’s all.”

“
Dave’s a good man,” his mother asserted again. “What are you
going to do to him? Are you going to arrest him?”

“
No,”
said the Sarge. “Of course not. We’ll find someone to help Dave
talk through his problems. Does he have someone trusted he can talk
to? Perhaps his GP or a minister?”

“
I
don’t want to talk to anyone,” he declared.

“
I’m
afraid we have a duty of care to refer you to some professional
help,” the Sarge insisted. “It would be extremely negligent of us
not to do so. But until I can give you the name of a counsellor,
please remember that Lifeline is only a phone call away. I would
strongly suggest you ring them when we leave so you can have a
confidential conversation with a counsellor.”

He rattled off the
phone number, making Mrs Gatton write it down and leave it in a
prominent place near their phone. He then pulled her to one side to
discuss not leaving Dave alone for the rest of the day.

“
Mrs
Gatton, please encourage Dave to ring Lifeline. Even ring them for
him. I really think he’d benefit from talking to someone who isn’t
going to judge him. The counsellor could also suggest some coping
strategies for him when he has those negative feelings and thoughts
again,” I said.

“
I
will, Officer Tess.” She walked us to the door. “Thank you so much
for taking me seriously, and for coming so quickly.” Her eyes shone
with tears again. “I can’t imagine what would have happened if you
hadn’t. I couldn’t bear to lose Dave. Especially like that. He’s
all I’ve got.”

I patted her on the arm
in sympathy and we left her standing on her verandah, watching us
driving away.

“
Do
you think he’s going to be all right?” I asked the
Sarge.

“
I
hope so. Depression causes a lot of suffering.”

“
I
feel responsible for his situation. If I hadn’t arrested him, none
of this would have happened.”

“
You
had no option, Tess. He was breaking the law. And do you really
think those parents would have been happy for you to give him a
slap on the wrist and send him on his way? I mean, I wasn’t even
here at the time, but it doesn’t take too much imagination to know
how angry the parents would have been.”

“
I
really did need to arrest him for his own safety.”

“
Then
you have nothing to blame yourself over.”

“
I do
feel sorry for him though. His mother is right – he really is a
decent bloke. He made one stupid drunken error, and just look at
the impact it’s had on his life.”

“
I
sincerely hope he does talk to someone.”

“
This
whole situation with Annabel is having such a negative impact on so
many lives – Dave, Jamie, baby Jamie, and Annabel herself. It’s
almost like a tragic play in a number of acts.”

“
It’s
that Merrick who’s to blame for it all.”

“
True. Bastard. Hope he gets caught soon.”

Back at the station, he
rang Big Town to obtain the contact details of the counselling
service to which they most commonly referred people. He then rang
Dave to pass on the number, but hung up quickly.

“
Guess that’s a good sign. Their phone was
engaged.”

“
Hopefully he’s talking to Lifeline.”

“
Remind me to ring back again later to check on
him.”

My stomach rumbled
loudly again, making him laugh.

“
Come
on, kid. Let’s go have some lunch.”

“
Don’t call me kid. You know I don’t like it.”

“
And
after lunch, you can get stuck into writing your reports – on your
encounter with this Merrick guy and what just happened with
Dave.”

“
I
s’pose,” I conceded. It seemed to me that I spent more time in
front of my computer than doing actual policing work. “Let’s go to
my house for lunch. It’s about time I paid you back for all your
hospitality.”